


i want a simple explanation for what i'm feeling inside

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 01:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1963140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashton's shifting and now he's got his faced pressed into the curve of Michael's neck and his arm draped across his waist and Ashton's lips brush against his collarbone, and shit, Michael really wishes he hadn't done that, because now he's thinking about Ashton's breath against him and the way his lips felt for that half a second and—</p><p>And fuck, Michael's so screwed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. today is a winding road that's taking me to places that i didn't want to go

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT IS THIS

Michael's focused on the movie or the fact that he's digging his nails so hard into his palm he thinks he might bleed, or even Calum and Luke who really need to get a room. He's definitely not focusing the way the light from the screen reflects on Ashton's face or how nice his jawline is or how his stupid fucking mouth is just hanging slightly open or the fact that Ashton's thigh is pressed against Michael's own and the way _that_ feels. Nope. He's thinking about the talking snowman in the movie that he practically begged the others to watch and not the shadows that define Ashton's already perfectly defined arms.

Michael tells himself that it's the beer he had earlier, even though it was one beer he had four hours ago, that's making him like this. He's not interested in Ashton. Not remotely. Ashton is his best friend (particularly ever since Calum and Luke lost the ability to keep their hands off each other), and Michael doesn't want to date him, or fuck him, or whatever. He's just a little lonely and a little out of it and Ashton just so happens to be there, so Michael's thinking about him. That's it.

Ashton's shifting and now he's got his faced pressed into the curve of Michael's neck and his arm draped across his waist and Ashton's lips brush against his collarbone, and shit, Michael really wishes he hadn't done that, because now he's thinking about Ashton's breath against him and the way his lips felt for that half a second and—

And fuck, Michael's so screwed.

"Mikey, I'm sleepy and no one's watching this anyway, can we go to bed?"

Michael glances at the ground where Calum and Luke are sitting — or were, when did they get up? — and back at Ashton. Or at least, his body, because their current position makes it difficult for Michael to see his face. "You're capable of going to bed by yourself."

"But I want to cuddle and I can't do that by myself," Ashton whines.

Michael sighs. "Fine, I'll go then, you big baby."

Ashton sits up and gives him a smile that's all teeth and dimples, and Michael rolls his eyes, but it's actually _adorable_ , and Michael hates himself for even thinking it. Ashton grabs Michael's hands and pulls him off the couch, and fucking _drags_ him to his room.

Then Ashton's pulling off his shirt, and Michael is trying not to stare, but he likes the way it looks when he can see the older boy's muscles moving under his skin, so, ultimately, he fails. He considers doing the same, to feel Ashton's skin against his, but Michael doesn't think he'd be able to handle that. Ashton flops on the bed, and stretches his arms out to Michael.

"You're so lame," Michael says. He likes it, though, the cuddling, so he lets himself melt into Ashton, legs and arms and fingers all tangled together, and Ashton's got his face in Michael's neck again, and, yeah, Michael decides he made the right decision, keeping his shirt on, because he'd rather be too warm then be only able to think about how Ashton's body feels pressed into him (which, he already is but the extra skin would make it worse, Michael thinks).

Ashton drifts off pretty quickly, but Michael simply can't. He's _definitely_ focused on Ashton's breath on him and his jawline and the thigh that's against his own and the way it feels. Even in the dark, Michael can see Ashton. His cheeks and lips and nose and collarbones and just. Ashton's pretty. He is. Maybe boys aren't supposed to be pretty, but Ashton's really fucking pretty and it's keeping Michael awake.

It's stupid, Michael's crush, and hopeless, because Ashton's not interested in guys and he's certainly not interested in Michael. The flirting and the late night cuddles and the _maybe we should date just to piss Calum and Luke off_ s are so completely platonic, Michael thinks the connection between him and the ground should he ever decide to fling himself out a window would be more romantic than the one between him and Ashton. It's shitty, it's indescribably shitty, how hopeless Michael feels. He knows Ashton doesn't like him and he knows that even if he did they could never be like Calum and Luke, Calum and Luke who are so in love and don't care what the world thinks because all they need is each other, it's just something that those two have that Michael and Ashton don't separately, much less together. It's so fucking stupid, and Michael can't do shit about it.

Well, he supposes could always tell Ashton, but he'd rather be sad and lonely than be sad and lonely _and_ rejected. He could also tell Calum or Luke, but somehow Michael thinks either of their advice would be _why don't you just tell him?_ , and that's not really what Michael's looking for, because it won't help.

The room feels stuffy all of a sudden, and Michael can't think straight, at least, even less than usual, and he needs to get out and _breathe_ , but he also doesn't want to leave Ashton, because he likes being with Ashton even if he's not technically _with_ Ashton; still, he untangles his limbs and walks into the kitchen. He just needs to clear his head is all.

The clock on the stove says it's 3:12 in the morning and Michael mentally slaps himself for being so lost in Ashton he's still not asleep at three in the morning. He wishes he could say it's jetlag, but it's not, and he knows it's not, and he really needs to get over it. Michael doesn't even really do anything, he just stands there, glass of water in hand, leaning against the counter, trying to distract his brain, or get tired enough that he'll pass out on the floor. He might crack his skull open should that happen, but honestly, he's okay with that. At least — assuming he doesn't die — he'll have something else to think about.

"Mikey?"

If he didn't have a death grip (albeit one he didn't notice) on his water, Ashton's voice ringing through the hall would've resulted in a trip to the emergency room to get the glass out of his foot.

Ashton pads into the kitchen, squinting even in the dim light Michael's got on, still shirtless and his hair is messy and—

"What're you doing out here?"

Michael's thoughts have now shifted from Ashton's looks to Ashton's voice, which is rougher and an octave lower than usual, but at least it's not— no, Michael's not going to let his brain finish that sentence.

"I dunno. Thinking, I guess," Michael tells him, shrugging. Which is true, he is thinking. He just won't tell Ashton about what exactly. Nothing wrong with that.

"That's not very exciting, give me detail," Ashton pries. Ashton's walked closer now. Michael liked it better when he was on the other side of the counter.

"Just thinking."

"Well, if you're not going to tell me, come back to bed."

"You know when people say that? People say that when they're trying to get laid and the other person isn't having it." Michael quirks an eyebrow.

"Michael Gordon Clifford, I am absolutely appalled," Ashton says. He laughs, and Ashton's laugh is cute and stupid and contagious, which makes Michael laugh.

There's so little distance between them, and Michael thinks this is the perfect opportunity to kiss him, but he doesn't. He wants to, but it'll make things weird between them and he can't deal with that. But fuck, he really wants to kiss him. If he didn't have so much to lose—

Michael shakes that thought out his head. Thinking about kissing Ashton is not going to help.

"Michael?"

"Uh?" _You could do it_.

"You okay? You just, like, zoned out there for a second."

Michael clears his throat. "Yeah. 'm good." _You could kiss him_.

"Have you slept at all?"

"No." _He's right there_.

"What are you thinking about that's keeping you up like this?"

And he almost does it, too, but he stops himself because he knows he shouldn't. Shouldn't kiss Ashton. Shouldn't kiss his best friend. He shouldn't even _want_ to kiss Ashton. He does, though. He fucking wants to kiss Ashton and he wants Ashton to want him to but that's just not the way it is. 

"Dunno," Michael decides. "Just stuff."

Ashton looks worried, looks like he wants to ask more, but he doesn't. Instead, he reaches out and laces his fingers through Michael's that are resting on the counter. It's a gesture that, really, doesn't mean shit, but that doesn't mean it doesn't feel like a million volts shooting up Michael's arm. It doesn't help the whole temptation to kiss Ashton either.

"Get some rest, Mikey." Ashton's voice is soft, borderline inaudible, and full of concern.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Michael sets his glass down and lets Ashton lead him back to his room. 

Honestly, it's one of those nights where Michael just feels kind of sad. Whether it's the time or the rain outside or the thought of Ashton doesn't really matter. It is what it is.

They're lying down, and Ashton's got his arms wrapped around Michael and even though he's used to it being the other way around, he's okay with it. He feels Ashton press his lips to the back of his neck, and Michael's so aware of it, and it sends a shiver down his spine, and god, does he want to turn around and kiss him. But he doesn't.

"I love you, Mikey," Ashton mumbles. And Michael doesn't know if Ashton thinks he's asleep, or if Ashton himself is falling asleep, or if he really means it (which he probably doesn't), and Michael's heart skips a beat.

"Yeah. I love you too, Ash."


	2. tell me where to start and tell me something i don't know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT AM I DOING

Michael doesn't remember falling asleep. He remembers his feelings and Ashton's touch and Ashton's voice and _Ashton_ , but he doesn't remember his brain shutting up long enough for him to sleep.

Ashton.

He's suddenly very aware of the lack of arms around his waist and lips on his neck, and he rolls over and Ashton is gone. When he sees the 11:03 on the clock, it would make sense that Ashton's gone. On their days off, Michael is the one who tends to laze around all day and do nothing, while Ashton simply can't, unless his energy's been completely drained. Regardless, Michael still finds himself pouting because he just. Really likes sleeping with Ashton.

Okay, no, that sounds bad; though, he thinks he'd probably really like _that_ as well. He thinks he'd really like anything that has to do with him and Ashton being together. Michael feels like he should get up and _do_ something, because if he doesn't, he'll lie there thinking about Ashton all day, and even though that's probably not the worst thing he could do, he probably shouldn't.

But Ashton's bed is nice, even without Ashton in it it's warm and soft and it smells like him, and Michael really likes that, too. He'd like it better if Ashton was there, but Ashton's not, and Michael really shouldn't just lie there for the next eighteen hours, so he forces himself out of the bed and goes to take a shower purely because he has nothing better to do.

Part of Michael wishes he could scrub any and all romantic feelings towards Ashton out of his brain. He thinks he might actually be trying to. As expected, it doesn't work, and he steps out still very much having feelings for Ashton.

He doesn't let himself say he's in love with Ashton, because he's not. Just a crush. A very deep-running, butterfly-inducing, heart-aching crush, but a crush. If he says he's in love with Ashton, he'll never be able to function properly again.

"—what to tell him."

Michael's about to step into the kitchen, but he freezes in his tracks when he hears Ashton's voice. He doesn't know for sure that Ashton's talking about him, but he's pretty sure.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel? That's what Calum did."

Ashton's talking to Luke. About Michael.

"But we aren't the same as you and Cal, Luke. I don't... I'm not about to go make some big I'm-in-love-with-you confession to Michael, because a) he probably doesn't even like me, and b) I'm not in love with him. I just... I don't know."

Michael doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but he does, and he's not sure what Ashton's saying. Ashton could be asking Luke how to tell Michael he likes him or he hates him, and Michael thinks it's the former, which actually might be worse, in all honesty. Michael and Ashton do couple-y type shit, sure, but they just. Ashton's right, they're not like Calum and Luke. And they wouldn't work like Calum and Luke, either.

"You're in denial, Ash," Luke says.

"I told him I loved him last night," Ashton says. Michael remembers that, he remembers it _vividly_ , but he still doubts Ashton really meant it. "Don't tell me I'm in denial."

"What'd he say?"

"He said he loved me too, but I think he just thought I meant it as a friend. Which I did. I mean, it was late, and he just. He seemed sad, and he wouldn't tell me what was wrong, and I don't know, maybe it was more. It just felt right."

Oh. Michael ignores the feeling of his heart sinking in his chest. Ashton didn't exactly say it meant nothing, but that's what it feels like, and it kind of fucking sucks. And before Luke can respond, he walks into the kitchen. "Hey guys," he says, putting on a smile that he's really hoping doesn't look extremely forced. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing much," Ashton says. Michael tries not to stare as he sips at his coffee. "You're lucky you're a heavy sleeper, because Calum and Luke don't know how to—"

"Shut up, Ashton," Luke grumbles. "We weren't that loud. You're just a light sleeper."

"Would you like me to imitate? 'Oh, Luke, just like—fuck!—that!' For, like, I don't even know how long. What the hell do you two do at nine in the fucking morning?"

Michael laughs. He notices how red Luke is, and laughs even harder, because that sounds like something they would do. It is something they would do. He's heard things. And seen things he wasn't particularly thrilled to see Calum and Luke doing.

Calum walks into the kitchen, groggier than even Michael, and he strides over to Luke and slides his arms around his waist. "Morning, Lukey," Calum mumbles, leaving kisses along the purple marks on Luke's neck.

"Oh, no," Ashton says. "If you two are about to start sucking each other's dicks right here and now, I'm leaving. Michael, you're welcome to join me. I'd advise that, actually."

Ashton's mortification is actually kind of cute, Michael notices, and immediately scolds himself for thinking it. Not so much that Ashton's suffering is enjoyable, because if there's anything Michael's known for, it's laughing at other people's suffering (Luke's in particular), but for the whole Ashton-is-cute part. It's not that Ashton _isn't_ cute, per se, anyone with a pair of working eyes would think he's cute, but Michael's thinking of cute in a way that goes way beyond _hey, my friend is cute_.

Calum shoots Ashton a look that's a cross between _I am not going to fucking suck Luke's dick right now_ and _I_ am _going to suck Luke's dick right now solely to spite you_.

It's moments like these where Michael stops and thinks that, yeah, this is who they are and he wouldn't trade it for anything. He always knows it, it's always in the back of his mind, but when they're touring it's hectic they're always exhausted and doing interviews or performing, and when they aren't doing that they're in the studio, and all of it gets a bit overwhelming. They just need time like this, where they can take a minute and breathe and be them, no cameras or fans or questions to answer or songs to record, and just _be_.

Of course, that also means Michael has more time for his thoughts and in the past twenty-four hours his thoughts haven't exactly let him do that. He's so wrapped up in wanting to be with Ashton, then telling himself that he shouldn't want that, then thinking about every little thing Ashton does, like he's a broken record that's got Ashton's name on repeat. He's not entirely sure where his brain came up with that analogy, but it works, he supposes. It's hard to relax when he's so on edge about Ashton. It might be easier if Michael just fucking told Ashton how he felt, but he won't let himself.

Then there's what he overheard Ashton and Luke saying not five minutes ago, and he doesn't know how to process it. It sounded like Ashton was saying _yeah, I like Michael_ and _I don't like Michael_ simultaneously, and Michael just doesn't know what to make of it.

He wonders if it was ever like this for Luke and Calum, if they were ever this confused and worried over their feelings for each other. Before they'd started dating, Calum had told Michael _I've got a thing for Luke and I think I'm going to tell him_ , and he later did, and it was so easy for them. It never seemed like there was any confusion. Michael wishes he was a bit more like Calum and a bit less like Michael. At least he would have the balls to tell Ashton he's into him, even if he knew he might get rejected.

Michael's not Calum, though, and he kind of hates being Michael right now. Being Michael, to put it simply, is absolute shit right now, and being Calum sounds like a much better gig.

Well, he'd rather be sucking Ashton's dick than Luke's, but at least Calum's got his shit together.

"Mikey?"

Calum and Luke are looking at him, but Ashton's looking at him with eyes full of worry, and Michael feels kind of awful for it. He clears his throat. "Sorry."

"Can I just. Can I talk to you? Alone?"

Michael wants to say no, but Ashton looks almost desperate for it, and Michael has trouble turning him down when everything is perfectly fine. "Yeah." And he follows Ashton to his room.

"Mikey, what's wrong?" Ashton asks the second the door is closed behind them.

"Nothing."

"Don't say it's nothing," Ashton says. "I know you're lying. Something's wrong, I know something's wrong. Why won't you tell me what? It can't be that bad."

 _Oh, just that I've got feelings for you that I haven't dealt with until now and now it may or may not be getting in the way of everything and ruining my life, and last night I couldn't sleep because of it, and I overheard you talking to Luke and I don't know what to make of it, and I didn't want to tell you because you'll hate me for it, but what the hell, right?_ is what Michael wants to, but doesn't say. "It's nothing, Ash," is what he says instead. "I'm fine. Really."

"No, you're not." Ashton's voice is softer, he seems more worried than anything. Michael thinks it might be better if he was angry at him, if he would yell at him or something, but no, Ashton's not like that.

"Yes I am." It's a lie, and quite frankly, an obvious one, and Ashton isn't stupid enough to think otherwise. He takes a step closer, and fuck, it's like the night before and Michael's thinking about how easy it would be to kiss him, again, but doesn't, again.

"Mikey..."

Michael's staring at his lips, his stupid, slightly parted lips, and _god_ , does Michael want to kiss him. He wonders if Ashton's thinking the same thing. He's probably not, but Michael hopes he is. He just wants to kiss him. He could.

He doesn't, though. As always. He never does.

This time, though, this time, Ashton does.

It takes Michael's brain a minute to register the feeling of Ashton's lips pressed against his. They're soft, Michael notices, and warm, and he tastes like oranges and coffee, which sounds kind of disgusting, but it works coming off Ashton's mouth. Michael's heart is beating so hard against his chest he thinks it's actually possible it'll shoot out his body. He's not sure what exactly he's thinking right now, because all he can do is _feel_ , but then Ashton's pulling away and his eyes fluttering open and Michael can catch up with his thoughts now.

"Did you just kiss me?" is the first thing either of them say, and it comes out a lot harsher than Michael intended, like he didn't enjoy it, and that makes Michael feel shit, because he did enjoy it, a lot. A kind of _this is everything I ever wanted_ type of enjoyment, and—

"Sorry," Ashton mumbles, cutting off Michael's brain. "I just. It felt. Sorry."

"Ashton—"

Ashton's out of the room before Michael can say anything, and he should go after him, Michael knows he should, Michael knows he should explain himself, tell Ashton everything, but he doesn't.

Of course he doesn't.


	3. today in the blink of an eye i'm holding onto something and i do not know why

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kinda ????? but i'm happy with it

Michael doesn't make an effort to speak to Ashton for the next two days. He wants to, god, does he fucking want to, but Ashton hasn't looked him in the eye since they kissed, and Michael doesn't know what to say. Ashton gets out of the house as much as he can, and even during their movie nights (which is, like, every night), Ashton makes sure Calum and Luke are separating him from Michael.

It kind of stings, actually, but Michael's not sure if it's because Ashton hates him or if Ashton's too afraid of what Michael will say. Either way it sucks, and not knowing sucks, and not talking to Ashton sucks, and wanting to kiss Ashton again sucks. Everything just sucks, and Michael doesn't know what the fuck to do about it. He's sure Calum and Luke have noticed something's up, but neither of them have approached him and asked about it, and Michael's not about to go confessing his feelings for Ashton, even if they would understand. Even if he's been friends with Calum for ten years. He's just. He's not going to. They would just tell him to talk to Ashton, which he can't — or just isn't willing to — do.

He thinks he might be suffering from withdrawal symptoms after virtually not at all interacting with Ashton for almost three days now. Actually, is that possible? Michael's not sure, but he's starting to think it might be. He just really, really misses Ashton. Like, not even just because he's got feelings for the guy, he just misses having his best friend around. Even if the cuddles and flirting and jokes and everything in between were heart-achingly platonic (well, at the time; now, he's not so sure), he misses it. It was better than the current situation, better than no Ashton at all.

Michael knows he's the one who fucked up, that he's the reason Ashton won't look him in the eye. He's sure Ashton's blaming himself for it, though, and fuck, if that doesn't kill him.

"Why do you fucking suck so much, Michael?" he mumbles.

"Mikey?"

It's Calum's voice behind him, and is it stupid that being called Mikey hurts? Ashton calls— Ashton _called_ him Mikey. So did Calum and Luke, and basically all his friends. But it reminds him of Ashton, and being reminded of Ashton hurts.

"Uh?" Michael turns around.

"Were you just talking to yourself? I don't mean to eavesdrop, I was just passing by and—"

"It's fine. I, uh, yeah, I guess so."

"Are you okay? You're seriously off lately and you and Ashton won't even look at each other."

Michael shakes his head. "No. I mean, I don't know. It's just." He pauses. He didn't exactly plan on telling Calum this. But what the hell. "It's just. I like Ashton, like, I _like_ him, not like you like Luke, I'm not in love with him, don't get the wrong idea, I just like him, like, a lot. And I'm so fucking confused and then as if that wasn't enough, the other day he kissed me and I reacted badly to it — which was, by the way, totally unintentional — and now he won't look at me and I'm too fucking scared to talk to him. Which sucks, because I totally liked kissing him and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to do it again. And I know you're going to tell me to stop being a pussy and just talk to him, but I just. I can't, okay? So, yeah, that's that."

Calum doesn't say anything for a moment, he just licks his lips. Then: "You're a fucking idiot, Michael."

"Thanks, Calum. Thanks for that. Not like I didn't already know."

Calum rolls his eyes. "No, that isn't what I meant. Ashton thinks you're pissed at him for kissing you, and he's been whining to me and Luke whenever you're not around about how much he likes you for _months_ , and right now he will not shut up about how much he thinks he sucks because he likes you and he fucked things up by kissing you. It's actually _exhausting_ how much he talks about you. Like, I'm considering cutting his tongue off just so he'll shut up. Have you not caught him staring at you all doe-eyed for the past, like, ten years? It's pretty obvious he likes you, and you're a fucking idiot for not realizing it."

"Oh."

"So you're exactly right, I am going to tell you to talk to him, so he can stop being so mopey and self-deprecating and so he'll finally shut up about you. Don't tell me you can't, because you _can_ , and if you don't, I'm going to shove my fist down your throat."

"Okay."

Michael's a bit stunned, actually. He's not quite sure how to react to that — Ashton fucking likes him? And he's liked Michael for several months? Possibly for as long as Michael ignored the voice in his head that liked Ashton? Maybe he should have caught onto it sooner, at least, he should've realized when Ashton kissed him, but he never thought of it like that. He really should have, though. He's pretty sure it would've made his life easier. Calum's right, he's a fucking idiot.

Of course, Calum could be lying just to fuck with Michael's emotions, but he's pretty sure that Calum wouldn't, not with something like this.

"Talk to him, and thank me later," Calum says, drawing Michael's attention back to him, though Calum's already gone by the time Michael looks back at where the other boy was standing.

And Michael would go do that, he would, honest, if Ashton was home. He's not sure what time he'll be back, and he's not sure he wants to wait.

He could text him, but Ashton could very easily ignore his texts. Michael decides it's a kind of _what the hell_ day and does it anyway.

_[michael, 1:02 P.M.]: ash?_

_[seen 1:03 P.M.]_

_[michael, 1:06 P.M.]: i'm sorry i suck  
[michael, 1:06 P.M.]: i'm not mad at you_

_[seen 1:06 P.M.]_

_[michael, 1:07 P.M.]: i get it if you don't want to talk to me but when you get back i need to explain myself okay?  
[michael, 1:07 P.M.]: you don't even have to respond to this just let me explain when you get back please_

_[seen 1:08 P.M.]  
[ashton, 1:10 P.M.]: okay_

Michael contemplates sending a response, but all he can think of is another 'okay', and that's just a little too John-Green-novel, he thinks (it was a good book and movie, but Michael's not a sap. Also, it kind of depresses him), and he'd rather just wait until Ashton gets home not knowing how long he'll be (otherwise he'll stare at the clock until the glowing numbers burn into his eyeballs), so he leaves it at that.

He's kind of on edge the entire time afterwards, though. He's not sure when Ashton will be home and waiting is killing him, but he won't let himself ask. After about an hour, Michael's so desperate for a distraction he almost asks Calum for a blowjob, but he a) doesn't want Luke to kill him, and b) doesn't want to be turned down by Calum — of all people — even if it's mostly because Calum's in a relationship (and c) mostly just wants a blowjob from Ashton. But he doesn't let himself think about that either).

After what Michael thinks is another two hours but feels like two years, he starts to wonder how Calum and Luke ever put off confessing their feelings for each other for however long they put it off without bashing in their skulls. He thinks they either didn't put it off for as long as they said they did, or they've got some unattainable level of patience that Michael is seriously lacking and could seriously use a bit of at the moment. Instead, he's currently flopped on the couch staring mindlessly at some shitty movie that's playing on TV, considering going out and hunting Ashton down so he can stop being so fucking bored.

He doesn't, though, because even when Ashton gets back he's not sure what exactly he wants to say. It'll probably be something along the lines of _I really fucking like you like a_ lot _but I didn't tell you because I was pretty sure you would hate me because like that would be weird I'm your best friend and I like you you know like who does that? And I totally didn't mean to react that way to you kissing me because truth is I wanted to kiss you then and for like the entire night previous and I just—_

Michael doesn't hear the click of the lock on the door or the footsteps entering the house, and he doesn't notice Ashton's presence until: "Michael?"

And he nearly falls off the couch when he's stumbling over to meet Ashton at the entrance of the room.

"Ashton!" Michael internally cringes at how enthusiastic he thinks he sounds.

"You wanted to talk?" Ashton's voice is quiet, hesitant, almost, as if he's afraid of Michael or what Michael's going to say. To be fair, Michael deserves that.

Michael blinks, brain drawing a blank for a brief moment. "Right," he says, "I did."

Ashton nods, willing him to go on.

"I, uh, I just." Ashton's staring intently at him, wide-eyed and arms folded across his chest, and there's a considerable amount more distance between them than the last time they talked (which is probably a good thing, given what happened there), but Michael feels like his heart is going to jump out his throat. "I'm not mad at you for kissing me," he decides. "I actually. I liked it. I like _you_. And I know that's stupid, because, like, you're my best friend, and we aren't Calum and Luke, and that's weird. But I do." He leaves out the _I know you like me, too, Calum told me_ because Ashton might kill Calum if he says it. "And that's why I was acting so weird then, why I'm still acting weird. I was afraid to tell you because I thought you might hate me. Which you still might, actually, but whatever. I don't know if I'd say I'm in love with you. This is already weird. And I don't know if I am. But I like you, like, a _lot_ , and I hate not talking to you, so, yeah. That's it."

It's not exactly what he'd been thinking he would say, but it's not as stupid as that either, which he's thankful for.

And Ashton smiles, takes a step or two closer, which makes Michael's heart skip a beat. "You're an idiot, Michael," he says softly. "I could never hate you."

Even though Michael already knows it, he still feels heat rising in his cheeks and butterflies in his stomach like he's a fourteen year old girl who just got asked out by her crush or something, because Ashton is here and he's confirming everything Calum said, and it's nothing like when Calum said it, because fuck, Calum is definitely not Ashton.

This time, Michael moves closer, Michael leans in to kiss Ashton. This time, it's hesitant, his lips meet Ashton's with a kind of uncertainty, but they're still soft and they're still warm, and this time it doesn't really taste like anything but _Ashton_ , and Michael thinks that moments like these are his favourite.


	4. do you know you're unlike any other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter is rly short bc i was actually only going to make this 3 chapters but i felt like it needed a better ending and yeah

"Mikey?" Ashton murmurs, drawing Michael from his state of half-asleep.

"Mm?"

"I can't sleep."

Michael chuckles. "We went to bed, like, half an hour ago, Ash. It's only, what, midnight?" He opens his eyes and looks at Ashton, and he's pouting. "Don't pout at me. You're too kissable when you pout."

"But I can't sleep and you're being an asshole," Ashton says, "and I want you to kiss me."

"'m always an asshole, dunno what you're saying," Michael says, quirking a brow.

"Well, to Luke and Calum, and mostly Luke, yeah, but you're always nice to me." Ashton's still pouting, and Michael kind of wants to punch him in the face, because it's really fucking cute and his brain is barely awake and he can never deal with how cute Ashton is, and he definitely can't deal with it right now because he just wants to sleep, god fucking damn it, but Ashton's here looking at him with wide eyes and that stupid pout, and now he _can't_ sleep.

Michael doesn't punch Ashton, of course, he would never do that, and he finds himself kissing Ashton instead. Ashton makes a noise in his throat that's something between a whine and being strangled (probably because he was about to say something before Michael kissed him), and Michael almost laughs, but it's actually just really fucking cute, like every other thing Ashton does. Everything about Ashton is just really fucking cute, and Michael's kind of in love with that.

Michael's kind of in love with a lot of things about Ashton, really. Like his lips, for instance. And his hands. And his laugh. And pretty much everything else, if he's being honest. Michael's just kind of in love with Ashton.

"If you can't sleep, then what the fuck do you want to do?" Michael says, breaking the kiss, and thank _god_ he's not pouting anymore because if he was Michael might actually consider punching him.

Ashton shrugs. "Don't know. Kind of just want to lie here with you?"

"You can do that when I'm asleep."

"That's not the same," Ashton protests. "Like, yeah, you're cute when you're asleep but I can't talk to you and I like talking to you."

"You're so lame," Michael says, pecking Ashton's forehead. "But alright."

"I love you, Mikey."

And Michael thinks he's a little more than kind of in love with Ashton, that he's one-hundred percent in love with this boy, and it's almost kind of terrifying because Michael's never really been in love with anyone before. But he thinks that, if he's got to be in love with anybody, he wouldn't want it to be anyone else. As lame as that sounds, he is in love with Ashton Irwin, and only him.

"Yeah. I love you too, Ash."


End file.
